


Do you want to talk about it?

by annaloveswriting



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Elia's dad does the hurting part, Filippo does the Comfort part, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Toxic Father, Verbal Abuse, but I want to keep warning tags anyway, mentions of physical abuse, no hurt between Elippo!!, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 17:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22499713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annaloveswriting/pseuds/annaloveswriting
Summary: Elia’s father is coming at him and Filippo is there for him afterwards.
Relationships: Elia Santini/Filippo Sava
Kudos: 48





	Do you want to talk about it?

**Author's Note:**

> hey :) I posted this on tumblr about a year ago and now I thought why not also post it here on ao3? so here we go. I hope you like it ! ♥ find me on tumblr @lingenthusiast (former: skamenthusiast)

### Mercoledì - 27 febbraio 2019 - ore 21:34

 **Filippo** : (21:34) Thanks for this evening, Eli  
**Filippo** : (21:34) I hope you had as much fun as I did

Elia smiled when he saw the messages. He did have fun. A lot. Talking, fooling around, taking, making out, talking, shagging, talking some more… It was nice and he loved that it started to become a regular thing. When he and Filippo first started meeting, he always thought it was a one-time-thing. Even after the third and fourth time, he was fairly sure that Filippo was in it just for the fun. After seeing each other several times a week for two months straight and texting whenever they were not around each other, he was positive they were dating, even though it wasn’t official. Somehow, it didn’t need to be.

 **Elia** : (21:34) I did have fun, yes  
**Elia** : (21:35) Thanks right back to you  
**Filippo** : (21:35) Especially for the second bj  
**Filippo** : (21:35) I give you an A+ for that one  
**Elia** : (21:35) Excuse me, all of my bjs are A+  
**Filippo** : (21:35) A++ then  
**Elia** : (21:36) Thanks, teacher  
**Filippo** : (21:36) That sounds kinky  
**Filippo** : (21:36) I like it  
**Elia** : (21:36) I bet you do

He was grinning like mad when he unlocked the front door of their house and walked the stairs up to their apartment. It was a small but beautiful apartment, exactly the right size for him, his mum and his two younger sisters. When his mum had left his father a few years ago, she had left the house to him and Elia was glad for it. It was his family home, yes, but he didn’t really associate good memories with it. His father wasn’t the best human out there, he was selfish and short-tempered and kind of a loose cannon, especially with Elia. It has always been like that and Elia didn’t really know why. They’ve never had a good relationship and Elia was very happy whenever he could go a few weeks without seeing him.

When he opened the door to their apartment, he immediately noticed the delicious smell coming from the kitchen. Was his mum really cooking? She hardly ever did because most of the times she was too tired from working as a head secretary of a large company and caring for her three children. Elia and his 15 year-old sister Greta helped her a lot with the household and their little ten year-old sister Alessia - they didn’t really have a choice to be honest other than helping out, but it was okay. Everything was better than living with their father again.  
As it happened so rarely, it was always a nice surprise when his mum was cooking. Then they would all sit together at their dining table and talk a lot, remaining at the table until their mum sent them all to bed, one by one. These were wonderful evenings, full of laughter and joy and Elia’s heart was filled with warmth at the thought that today was one of these. Until…

"Eli?" Greta rushed out of the kitchen. The expression on her face was torn, as if she couldn’t decide which emotion she was currently feeling.

"Yep, it’s me, sorry for being so late." He pocketed his phone, pushed his shoes from his feet and put them in the corner where all their shoes were piled on top of each other. "Did mamma cook? I’m starving!"

"Not mamma," Greta said and then, he immediately understood.

He froze and stared at her. His face was drained of colour in a matter of seconds and his legs felt wobbly. He wasn’t prepared to see his father now. He always needed at least five hugs from his mum and his sisters before he was ready to face him, like hoarding reminders that he was loved, so he could use them as a mental buffer against whatever insult his father threw his way. Today he didn’t have these. And not only that, today he felt weirdly betrayed. He didn’t get any warning beforehand, not even a message either from his mum nor from Greta.

His father appeared in the hall.

"Hello Elia," he said. Unsurprisingly, his voice was just as cold as usual.

"Hey papà," Elia replied and mechanically put his backpack on the floor, not really daring to meet his father’s eyes.

"We cooked Coq Au Vin," Greta said quickly, "Do you want some? You haven’t eaten yet, have you?"

"You cooked?" Elia asked, an uncertain smile on his lips. His sister was literally the worst cook in this family.

"Nah, papà did the cooking and I did the… cutting vegetables part."

"That sounds about right." His voice was still small but he grinned at her for a quick second.

"Is Alessia in bed?"

"Of course she is!" His dad replied "Do you know what time it is? It’s past 21:30."

Elia just nodded.

Half a minute later, there was a full plate of coq au vin in the microwave and Elia watched it rotating to give his eyes something to focus on. He felt his father’s eyes on him, watching him with piercing eyes that made him all nervous.

"Where have you been this long?" He asked.

"I, ehm-" Elia swallowed, his throat was dry. "I’ve been with friends. We were studying for the exams next week."

"Greta said, you’ve been with your Mathematics tutor."

 _Mathematics tutor, nice one, Greta._ Elia blinked and swallowed again, thinking about how far off from studying the things were, that he did with Filippo.

"Yeah, ehm, one of them tutors me in Maths." Suddenly, he became all aware of that he was now sitting at the dinner table with his father although less than an hour ago, he had still been kissing Filippo. And before that, they had done way more than just kissing. Suddenly, he felt all dirty. He felt the desperate need for a shower and clean clothes, paranoid that his father would notice something, anything. Because that would end badly.

"One of your friends?" His father asked sharply while Elia's panic level rose steadily.

"Yes, one of my friends." Was his hair okay? Wasn’t it all messed up after sex? Did he smell of Filippo? Of another guy’s perfume? Or did he maybe smell extra sweaty? Was his dad sharp enough to notice that?

Elia swallowed yet again. "Yeah," he answers. "She does."

"Until nine o’clock?"

"He had to work all afternoon."

His father nodded briefly, his eyebrows raised and Elia wasn’t sure whether he actually believed him or whether he just let this one slide.

Greta handed him knife and fork and sat down at the table with them.

"Thanks, love," he mumbled and gave her a small smile.

The smile, however, was only short-lived.

"Do you always make her serve you?" His father asked, his voice unpleasantly ringing in Elia’s ears. "Who do you think she is? Your personal maid?"

Elia froze again. He really couldn’t do anything in his father’s presence without being targeted for the most random thing, when his father decided to harass him. His whole body started shaking and he quickly sat on his hands to at least hide them.

"He doesn’t make me serve him!" Greta jumped to his defence.

"You stay out of this," their father snapped at her.

"I don’t think she’s my maid," Elia said quickly, trying to keep his voice calm. "And I didn’t ask her to give me the cutlery, she just did."

"It’s just that I was still standing, papà, so it was kind of natural to hand him knife and fork. We normally split chores," Greta explained, not necessarily intimidated by her father. She probably knew that he would never do anything to her, she just had to be careful so he wouldn’t make him any more angry at Elia. "Eli does all the cooking and I set the table. He does a lot around the flat, papà. The most of all of us."

"He does all the cooking?" His father repeated mockingly. "Good you’re all still alive then."

Elia stared at his feet.

This had to be over _eventually_.

"You know, he’s a good cook, papà," Greta said, her voice having a certain edge to it now.

"If he’s such a good cook, how come he doesn’t teach you anything?" Their father continued to rant. He turned to Elia again. "Have you seen her in the kitchen? She doesn’t know shit! Don’t you think it’s your responsibility to help your sisters?"

"You’re a chef!" Elia shouted. "Why don’t you teach her? You taught me!"

"Are you really talking back right now?" His father stood up and leant towards Elia, threateningly.

Suddenly, the alarm on the microwave went off. Elia looked at it briefly and decided to ignore it, unsure of how his father would react if he left the argument just like that. Of course, this was the wrong thing to do.

"What are you waiting for? That someone will go and get it for you? You've got to be kidding me!"

Elia’s eyes started to sting when he wordlessly stood up and got his plate out of the microwave. It was really hot to touch but he didn’t care.

"May I eat in my room?" He asked quietly. He was afraid of the answer but he wanted to leave the kitchen so badly that he took the risk.

"Does your mother allow you to eat in your room?" His father started once again. Elia just exhaled slowly, tried to blink the tears away and sat back down at the table. "This family is a mess! Does Antonella teach you any manners at all? Or does she just let you do whatever you want to do? You wouldn’t behave this badly if you stayed with me, that’s for sure."

Elia just stared at his plate. He wasn’t hungry anymore, not at all.

As soon as Elia stored his plate in the dishwasher, his father let him go. It was late anyway and while his dad sat down in front of the TV, Elia and Greta both went into the bathroom to get ready for the night.

When they were out of their father’s sight, Greta turned to Elia, her bad consciousness written all over her face.

"I’m so sorry, Eli," she whispered and touched his arms awkwardly, unsure of whether she was allowed to hug him or not.

"A heads-up would have been nice," Elia sighed and pulled her close. She immediately put her arms around his waist.

"I’m so sorry," she said again, her voice shaky. "I thought you wouldn’t come home tonight anyway, and you shouldn’t know papà was here because then you would have come home for sure."

"Of course, Greta," he replied, "I would never leave you alone with him."

"He’s okay when it’s just us," she assured him. "Really."

Elia swallowed. He knew she said it to calm him down, to stop him worrying when his sisters were alone with their father but it stung so much he physically flinched. He knew, he was a red rag to his dad but he didn’t know why. He didn't know what made his sisters more loveable than him. It didn't matter, though. Elia would always want to be them when their father was present. He would never be able to forgive himself for not being there to protect his sisters if his father ever insulted or even hit them.

As soon as he said goodbye to a still totally guilt-ridden Greta, he escaped to his bedroom, closed his door and checked his phone. His mum had tried to call him and left several messages.

 **Mama** : (22:06) Elia, sweetheart, I totally forgot to call you. This day is such a mess, I’m so sorry. I had to go on a two-day business trip with my boss because my colleague fell ill and couldn’t go, so I had to jump in. I tried to get your aunt to watch you for the next two days but she couldn’t, so I had to call your father. If it gets too much between the two of you, you can stay at one of your friend’s if their parents are okay with it. It’s only two days. If you need to talk, call me. I love you, mama

He was only a second away from calling her right on the spot, longing for his mother’s comforting words but then he stopped. She was on a business trip and he was not a little child anymore who needed his mommy. Other than that, he would cry as soon as he heard her voice and she would notice and then she would call his father or tell him after the trip and they would fight and his father would only get angrier at him.

So he took a deep breath and closed his mother’s chat. He went back to the other messages, checking who else texted him. His gaze quickly landed on one name.

 **Filippo** : (21:37) can we meet again tomorrow or do you have other plans?  
**Filippo** : (21:39) are you home yet?

 _Filippo_. They have talked about what was going on in Elia’s family before and Filippo had been nothing but understanding. He hasn’t been awkward about it, he hasn’t laughed when Elia’s eyes had been shining with tears when he - very briefly - talked about the relationship with his dad. With Filippo, he could talk about things like that, about things he didn’t really want to talk about with any of his friends. With Filippo, though, it didn’t feel weird. With Filippo it was fine.

Elia quickly listened whether his father was still watching TV and then made a silent wish that the volume of the TV was loud enough so that he wouldn’t hear him talking. He took off his clothes, put on a clean t-shirt and laid down in bed. He dialled Filippo’s number and dragged his duvet over his head to block as much noise as possible.

"Hey!" Filippo’s voice cheered through the phone.

Elia couldn’t breathe. It felt as if all the weight was lifted from his shoulders but someone kicked him in the stomach at the same time.

"You can’t get enough of me, can you?" Filippo said contently, a smile evident in his voice.

"No, I can’t actually," Elia answered. He aimed for joking but his voice was shaking.

Filippo was quiet for a second. "Are you okay?" He asked then as if he wasn’t sure.

"My father is here," Elia just said. Filippo understood immediately.

"What? Why?" He asked, alarmed, all traces of delight now gone.

"My mum had to go on a business trip at short notice."

"Okay… Fuck, Elia! Are you okay?"

"No, don’t worry, I’m okay… physically,"hHe added for the sake of honesty. "He just made it very clear that he doesn’t like me. But I knew that anyway, so… it’s okay."

"Oh babe, I’m so sorry. Do you want me to pick you up? You can stay at mine." Elia thought about it. He thought about the smell of Filippo’s apartment, the smell of the sheets, that were so familiar by now. He thought about Filippo’s bed, about lying in there, next to this gorgeous young man. He thought about cuddles and soft little kisses and comfort…

He exhaled shakingly. "I would love to but I shouldn’t sneak out. I don’t know how he’s going to react." His whole body tightened at the thought of that. "I’m not 18, yet, Fili."

Filippo swallowed audibly. "Are you safe in there?"

Elia stayed silent for a while. He was safe for now, yes and he would have to go to school early the next morning. He would try not to attract his father’s attention when they were in the same room, so he should be fine. His father was so angry tonight because Elia had been home late but that was only because Elia didn’t know. Tomorrow he would be smarter than that. "Yes, Fili, please. Don’t worry!" _I will be more careful._ He added silently.

Filippo’s voice got angry. "I swear to God, Elia, if he touches you only once, I’ll call the police."

"No, Fili," Elia said, his voice wobbly but determined at the same time, "You can’t do that. Best-case scenario would be, they come to check, they don’t believe me and my father gets angrier than he has ever been which, believe me, we don’t want that. And worst-case scenario would be that I couldn’t go back to living with my mum. Trust me, I’ve been thinking about it, a lot. So please, don’t tell anyone." He was full-on crying now and his voice became thinner with every word but Filippo understood anyway.

"Okay," he quickly said, "I would never do anything if you’re not okay with it, Elia. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make it worse. I’m just worried."

Elia let out a sob. "I shouldn’t have told you, I’m sorry."

"What?"

"You’re worrying. I don’t want you to worry. I’m going to hang up now, sorry for…"

Filippo interrupted him. "Of course I’m worrying, when I know you’re with this asshole of a father! But it’s okay, Eli, it’s not your fault. Oh babe…" Filippo sounded miserable. "Is there anything I can do for you? Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"About what happened after you came home?"

"I don’t know? Do you want to hear it?"

Filippo did want to hear about it, so Elia told him everything what has happened and how he was feeling about it. It felt strange to talk about it in so much detail and it felt a bit like he was going through it all over again but even though he was still crying, he felt better afterwards.

"I love Greta," he added after a short while. His voice was so quiet that Filippo hardly understood him. "I love her with all my heart but sometimes she makes me so angry, just because she can do whatever she wants and it’s fine. When I watch her working in the kitchen, I get so angry, that I have to leave. If I would hold a knife the same way she does, my father would probably stab me with it. But with her… it’s okay, because it’s Greta. With me, it’s not okay, because it’s Elia." He wiped the tears off his face with the back of his hand.

"I’m so sorry, Eli," Filippo said softly. "He’s a bastard and I hope you know that. You don’t deserve to be treated like that, nobody does but you the least of us all. You’re the most kind-hearted person I know."

"Don’t say that," Elia said, half smiling, half sobbing. "I’m really not."

"Of course you are!" Filippo insisted, his voice firm now. "Look at you. I don’t even know how you do it! If I were you, I would be so bitter because you had to go through so much shit, but you’re not bitter at all. You’re so positive and optimistic and open-minded and funny and lovely and just nice. You help your mother so much at home! You take care of your sisters. You are always there for your friends, always supporting them."

"I mostly make fun of them." Elia interjected, a bit overwhelmed by Filippo’s warm words.

"We both know this is your way to show a person how much you like them."

Elia froze. He hadn’t known Filippo had picked up on that.

There was a pause, Filippo considering his next words. "And you are so perceptive. You immediately know when something is wrong. And you care, so much. You ask what’s wrong and you want to make it better because you can’t stand when another person is feeling bad."

Elia hid his face in his pillow. "You make me sound like a saint."

Filippo laughed. "I wouldn’t go that far but for me, you’re as close to a saint as it gets. You are so giving. Look how sweet you are with me, Elia. I mean, you do give awesome blow jobs and the sex is always so good but there is so much more to it. I don’t know whether you notice but you constantly ask me how I’m feeling, whether I’m comfortable, whether I need anything - even though I’m your first guy. This is normally the other way around. You just care, you know? And since day one you cook for me whenever I say I’m getting hungry, even though we are always at my apartment."

"I was afraid of being intruding at first."

"Yeah sure, let me tell you, it’s the absolute worst to have a lovely guy cook for you after sex." Filippo chuckled softly and Elia smiled into his pillow.

Elia noticed that at some point during Filippo’s little speech, his heart had actually slowed down a bit. His breathing was more even now than it has been since he walked through the front door earlier tonight. They were silent for a while.

"There’s so much I like about you," Filippo whispered at some point.

Elia whiped the remaining tears off his face. "There’s a lot I like about you, too," he whispered back.

"We’re not talking about me tonight. Today, it’s your turn."

"I don’t know whether it’s a good idea to meet tomorrow," Elia abruptly changed the subject because suddenly it felt, as if he couldn’t handle all these emotions inside of him. There was so much hurt, there was hate, but there was warmth and gratitude and love as well.

"Okay. Then any other time," Filippo said and it sounded as if he wanted to protest but chose not to. "Whatever you are comfortable with."

Elia nodded and drew his legs closer to his chest.

"Can we text and call tomorrow? It really helped to talk to you," he then asked sheepishly.

"Of course. I’ll have my phone on me all the time, okay? And we can talk about whatever you want. We can talk about your dad or your sisters or about anything. Or if you just need to be distracted, you tell me, okay?"

Elia nodded again, even though he knew that Filippo couldn’t see him.

Again, there was silence.

"Thank you for being here for me, Fili. For talking me down."

"Thank you for being in my life, Elia."

"Thank you for being in mine."

There was a long pause, the weight of these words slowly sinking in. "Can you tell me about your day?" Elia then asked.

Filippo promptly started talking. He talked about photoshoots and weird poses and annoying people and after a while, he actually got a laugh out of Elia.

They kept talking for a bit longer and when Elia began to drift off, Filippo continued talking about the most random things he just happened to come up with. He stayed on the line until he was certain, Elia was asleep. Only then he dared to hang up.

**Filippo** (00:12): thank you for calling me  
**Filippo** (00:12): thank you for trusting me with this  
**Filippo** (00:12): you’re the strongest person I know  
**Filippo** (00:16): and I mean it when I say, I’m glad that you’re a part of my life now


End file.
